Quarantine Stories part 1: The Rocks

A little something for those who are stuck at home and would like to hear a story. Granted, I'm broke as hell at the moment and without work, but I can't bring myself to charge anyone who is likely in the same boat I am.

That being said, if you like this story and you'd like to help me and support my work, feel free to message me or send any amount of money to my paypal. If you can't spare anything, then an encouraging word or comment of your opinion is just as good. I’d love to hear from you.

Note: I have no professional equipment at home, nor professional recording programs, so the quality of the audio won't be up to par, but I hope you'll forgive me.

Now, on with the show.


 

The Rocks

The waves broke over sandy beaches and patchwork stones, echoing up the cliff side. The sun had just begun to creep over the horizon, kissing the air with an ancient and all-encompassing call for quiet, and revealing the jagged rocks that dotted the coastline far below. 

Megan stood at the edge of the precipice, looking over, swaying in the morning breeze, back and forth. 

Back.

Forth.

Back...

Forth...

Back...

She took a deep, unsteady breath. 

"I'd aim for the rocks, if I were you," a man's voice spoke from behind. Megan fell backwards with the sudden shock. The shape of a man, burning in the morning light, walked forward and knelt on the very edge of the cliff, sending bits of sandy soil skittering down toward the roaring sea. "I mean, if you don't aim right, you might hit the sandy part down there," the man continued, pointing at a speck far below. "If you hit that from this height, you'd probably break your legs, maybe even puncture a lung. You could spend the next hour gasping for breath as the tide rolls in. Eventually, you'd begin to wonder if you'll drown in water or in air..." He paused, staring off into the dawn sky, then turned to her with the friendliest smile she'd ever seen. "So, I'd certainly aim for the rocks," he continued. 

Megan blinked at the stranger, then got up and screamed "Who the hell sneaks up on someone who's standing on the side of a cliff!? I could have fallen off!" 

"Was that not the point? I mean, it did look like you were about to... take the plunge, so to speak. I thought it might make more sense to take a chance at stopping you rather than to simply admire the view." 

Megan shook her head and turned her back on the stranger. "What the fuck do you know about it?" 

"Oh, you'd be amazed," the man replied.

A gust of wind put an end to any reply that Megan may have given. Instead, she turned back to the stranger. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" 

"Someone who cares if you aim for the rocks or not," he replied, then smiled again.  "What brings a pretty young girl to the edge of a cliff in the pre-dawn light, anyway? Boy troubles?" 

Megan gave a look that, should it have had the ability to kill, would not have. Instead, this look would have maimed its intended victim of their dominant hand, broken every joint, added ground glass to their lungs, and seared off their hair with a blowtorch. "You think I'm dumb enough to kill myself over a fucking boy? Really?" she said. 

"Girl, then?"

"No!" Megan shouted like a curse.

"Just checking." The man smiled at her once more. Megan seethed. "So, why do you want to jump off a cliff? And don't tell me all your friends were doing it, because despite ages of mothers using that line, I don't think it has ever actually happened." 

"I'd bet it has," Megan retorted. "Have you ever heard of cliff jumping with wing-suits?" 

"Wing-suits?" the man scoffed. "What, people line up and pretend to be their favorite lemming but decide to be a bird instead?" 

"More like a flying squirrel," Megan replied. 

"Sounds expensive," the man said, looking at the sea, still confused. 

"Incredibly." 

"Why do they do it, do you think?" he asked. 

Megan looked over the edge of the cliff. "For the thrill," she replied. 

"You don't look thrilled to me." 

"I'm also not wearing a wing-suit." 

The man edged closer to Megan, joining her in her view. He took in the rising sun and the breaking waves, the early-morning birdcalls and the omnipresent rocks below. "I can see why you chose this spot. It's beautiful." 

Megan nodded, her eyes locked to a point on the horizon. 

"You're not the first, you know," the man said, quickly. 

Megan blinked. "To jump off a cliff?"

"No. You're not the first to jump off of this cliff. Hell, you're not even the first person who was interrupted before they could work up the courage." 

"Oh, right. I'm sure you've saved dozens of people who come up here to end it all. You're a great, big, fucking hero." Megan shook her head in disgust. 

The man sighed. "No. I haven't saved a single one." He glanced down at the beach. "I really would aim for the rocks, if you're serious about this." And with that, the man turned to leave. 

He only got a few steps away before he heard Megan behind him. "So what happened?" 

The man stopped and turned back. He smiled. "I'll give you the short version. I know you've got things to do..." 

Megan smirked. 

"It was a few years ago. The morning wasn't nearly this nice. It was cold, it was windy, and clouds covered the sky. You couldn't even tell it was morning, not really. It was just grey. And that's how he felt, I guess – not particularly bad. Not particularly good. Just... grey.

"He hadn't even intended to jump, if you can believe it. When I asked him, when he finally responded to me, he said he had just come out to walk in the rain and to clear his head. I guess the idea of jumping off the cliff came as a bit of a surprise to him, but once the idea made a home in his mind... well..." He gestured at the distant horizon. "It really looks like it might go on forever, doesn't it?" 

"I hope not. That sounds awful." 

"It does? Why?" 

"Because nothing ever changes. It's all shit – all of it. I couldn't stand it going on forever." 

The man started to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" Megan demanded. 

"You. I mean, okay, sure, maybe it's all shit right now, but the only way it will stay shit forever is if you step off that cliff. Life is nothing if not ever-changing."

"Are you seriously mocking a girl who's standing on the edge of a cliff?" Megan accused, though not unkindly. 

"You asked." The man smiled again. 

They stood there in silence for several minutes as the morning sun rose higher in the sky, turning everything from a blazing orange to a muted, misty representation of their true colors. The breeze rustled Megan's hair, sending it flowing out behind her. Without looking over, she asked "So why did he end up jumping? What made him finally decide?" 

"I'm not really sure. Just... made up his mind, I guess, and nothing was going to change it for him." He stared at the beach below, remembering. "You're not going to do it, are you?"

Megan closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. She turned away from the cliff and, without another word, walked away. 

The man watched her leave, smiling, and turned to watch the sun climb over the horizon.  He stood on the very precipice, swaying in the morning breeze. 

Back.

Forth.

Back...

Forth...

Back...

A Birthday Gift

It is, once again, my birthday. And, in the oldest traditions of birthdays, I am going to give you all a gift.

Not only is the sale still going in the store ("Birthday2016" without the quotes during checkout, if you'd like to save 31% on your orders), but I also have a brand new short story for all of you. It's a Christmas story, of a sort. Santa, or something similar, takes a very active roll in it, in any event.

I do hope you enjoy it.

The Last Day of Winter

            They huddled together, the families and friends of the valley in their small huts and rough cabins. The winter had been building in the mountains for months, blocking all access to the valley, stranding them to their own devices until spring came and melted the snow and ice in the mountain pass. It wasn't running out of food or fuel that worried the people in that little village, nor the cold driving local wildlife to acts of violence against them and their livestock. It was something else – something far older, and far more inevitable.

            In one of those rough cabins, just as unimportant as any other, the children slumbered in a large bed covered in furs nearest the fire. Their parents were in conversation with a group of other adults at the other end of the single room, their breath steaming with each word. "You can't be serious. Aldo is almost too old for it," the father said to the gathered group.

            "It can't be helped. You knew the risks and your chances, the same as everyone in the village. It's his turn," one of the men responded, not unkindly. Aldo's mother said nothing. She simply stared, unblinking, into the fire across the room.

            Aldo, asleep next to his sisters, was awoken to the sound of something scratching at the doorway. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the gloomy room by the flickering firelight. Long shadows grew from the few mean sticks of furniture the cabin contained, but his parents were nowhere to be found. The scratching persisted. The door on its leather hinges rattled with each successive scrape. Aldo, thinking for the safety of his siblings, grabbed a dagger from beside the fire and approached the door.

            As his hand brushed the latch, the racket stopped. The howling of the wind, the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and the beating of Aldo's heart were the only things that dared to break the silence. Aldo swallowed in a dry throat. He turned to go back to bed, but caught sight of his sisters, still asleep, oblivious to the dangers in the darkness. Making up his mind, he quickly got dressed in his thickest clothes, went to the door, licked his lips, took a breath, and let in the night.

             The air was crisp and clear. The snow was undisturbed, sparkling and spreading out on the hill before him in the moonlight. The wind grew suddenly still. Out among the trees, movement attracted his attention. A wolf, great and powerful, wandered between the pines. As Aldo watched, it paused, turned to him, and seemed to smile.

            Then it charged.

            Aldo fell back from the door, the latch falling back into place. The wind bellowed against the doorway, blowing in through the cracks, numbing his face. The hillside he had seen was not what was supposed to be outside of his cabin. The rest of the village, peaceful, pocked among the valley, should have been there. He shook his head, wondering what had just happened.

            Something slammed into the other side of the door. Aldo jumped backward, gripping his dagger tightly. Again and again something large and dangerous collided with the door, trying to gain entry. Aldo watched the wooden latch bend and flex with each hit.

            He ran to the bed. Grabbing at his slumbering sisters, he screamed, "Wake up!" but neither of them stirred. He shook them bodily, but they didn't resist. They lolled, limp, back to the bed. The latch shattered behind him. A stiff, cold wind met his back. He grasped the dagger firmly in his hand, and turned.

            The wolf watched him from the distance, sitting on the hillside, a quizzical look on it's long face. Aldo's breath came in great gulps, his body slick with sweat despite the cold. He still held the dagger in his shaking hand, but again he found himself in that unknown place. The wolf stood and trotted directly at Aldo, its tongue swaying back and forth in the still night air. "Get back!" Aldo shouted, slashing the dagger toward the beast.

            The wolf paused and then sat in the snow. It narrowed its eyes at Aldo, then nudged itself forward, causing the snow to fall away from its paws and roll down the hillside. It stood, took a few steps more, then sat once again and tilted its head at him, completely calm. Aldo locked eyes with the great wolf, trying to keep his heartbeat from betraying him. The beast stood, then leaned forward, its hind end in the air. It winked at Aldo, and then leapt. Aldo jumped to the side...

            ...and landed amongst the cooking pots in the corner of the cabin. The fire had gone out, leaving the room black save for the moonlight coming through the broken entryway. The door hung limp on one leather hinge. The bed lay shattered, blankets and furs strewn about the room, but Aldo saw no sign of his sisters.

            He crawled from the corner and found the dagger laying next to him. He picked it up just as the light in the doorway was covered by the shadow of a man.

            "Oh, ho! What have we here?" the man's deep voice echoed through the cabin and in Aldo's ears. "A small scrap of child – a morsel – nothing more. No grand oxen, well fed and feted? No prized boar, hunted and corralled, sent to me as my just due?"

            Aldo shook, his breath billowing around him. The stranger, his long, grey beard hung with icicles, had nothing so obvious emanating from his cold, blue lips. He shook his head at Aldo. "You're hardly worth the effort, boy."

            "Where are my sisters?" Aldo found his mouth speaking the words without having asked his permission.

            "Sisters? I've seen no women, nor girls. No, boy, only you and myself are here." The man struck a match against the door, illuminating his face in a sudden, dancing glare. Scars showed on the parts of his face that weren't covered in ice and hair, and his sharpened teeth glowed as he inhaled from a ragged pipe. "Run, boy," he said, stepping aside from the door. He blew out a dark blue plume of smoke and smiled.

            Aldo ran.

            The Wolf bit, hard, into Aldo's leg, causing him to shriek and flail. The wolf let go and backed away. It licked the blood from the fur around its mouth and sat down, seemingly content to have a slight taste. Aldo scrambled back in the snow, flashes of agony stabbing at his mind every time he moved his wounded leg. The wolf growled, but didn't stand. It simply lurched forward – not raising its paws, not bending its legs – as if in warning. Aldo grasped at his leg to stifle the blood.

            A voice came on the wind, whispering as if snowfall on a lake, "You are in danger, Aldo."

            Aldo looked up at the wolf, but it hadn't moved. It simply sat there, eyeing him conspicuously. Aldo looked deep into the wolf's eyes, and the voice came again. "Run, Aldo."

            Aldo ran through the cabin door like a bolt of lightning, but stopped to get his bearings. The village lay abandoned, all chimneys empty of smoke, all doors ripped from their frames. An enormous, scarred hand engulfed Aldo's shoulder. The stranger's voice came from behind him. "You're alone, boy. Nobody will save you."

            Aldo spun around, sweeping the dagger through the air, narrowly missing the stranger. "Oh-ho-ho-ho! He's got spirit!" the stranger laughed. Aldo crumpled to the ground, suddenly unable to catch his breath.  Pain blossomed as the stranger withdrew his fist from Aldo's stomach, slowly, taking Aldo's dagger from an un-resisting hand. "Spirit won't get you very far with me, child," he growled.

            Aldo, unable to stand, began to crawl away, grasping his stomach with one hand and clutching at the snow ahead of him with the other. The man casually stepped in front of him, placing a boot upon his neck, pressing him into the snow. Pain erupted in Aldo's side. The stranger's boot sent him rolling into a snowdrift. Aldo opened his eyes to see his attacker standing in the moonlight, dressed in a blood-soaked fur coat and sailor's cap, marching toward him. He was cleaning his nails with Aldo's dagger, gloating in his victory. Aldo closed his eyes.

            "Aldo!" the voice came again like ice to the brain. Aldo sat bolt-upright, eyes-wide, staring at the wolf who sat inches from his face. It was growling at him ferociously, biting at the air. "Aldo," came the voice once more, calmly, "don't be afraid. I've got you."

            The wolf lunged at him, its great mouth gripping Aldo's throat. Aldo closed his eyes as its teeth began to pierce his skin...

            And for the first time in what felt like hours, Aldo felt warmth.

            He opened his eyes.

            The wolf lay before him, bleeding from a wound in its side. Aldo saw the dagger, quivering with the violent force of the throw, protruding from the crimson wound. Aldo was bathed in blood, steaming gently in the cold. With a shrill whimper, the wolf ceased breathing.

            Footsteps crunched in the snow behind Aldo, and the blood-covered stranger walked past him, kneeling next to the wolf. "Oh-ho-ho, yes. She'll do." He turned to Aldo and winked.

            Without knowing why, Aldo began to cry.

            The fire crackled nearby, warming his side far beyond the point of pleasure. Aldo rolled away from it. A moment passed before he suddenly sprang to life, looking about the room. His father sat in a chair on the other side of the hearth. "Aldo? You're awake. We were beginning to lose hope." There was no joy in his father's voice, just a cold acknowledgment of fact.

            "What happened, father?" Aldo asked, looking around. "Where is everyone?"

            His father looked at him, sadly, for a moment. "Your sisters are with the neighbors," he said, finally.

            Aldo tried to stand, but his leg was swollen and useless. He rubbed at the spot the wolf had bitten him, but found that the wound wasn't of the flesh. It ached nonetheless. "And mother? What of mother?"

            His father's face fell. He looked at a spot on the floor for some moments before shaking his head, slowly.

            Outside the door, the first birds of spring began to sing, picking through the melting snow.

Sick, but not dying.

Hey folks,
sorry for the long absence. I had a hell of a time at DragonCon last week. I managed to cosplay Agent 47 from the Hitman series and do a good job with it, and otherwise just fooled around and hung out with the ever entertaining Kato, Rin, Miss Morgane, and Biohazardous Misa as well as the entirety of the band Abney Park.
Of course, once I returned from the con, I came down with con-crud something horrible. I'm still recovering, in fact. I apologize for the silence as of late, but now you know why it happened. Enjoy these pictures from the con. I'm going to go sip some tea and go back to bed...
~Sean Walter

Myself as Agent 47 and Biohazardous Misa

Abney Park, Kato, and myself.

Book making and jobs.

Leather books are a hassle to construct well, to be completely honest. They take time to sew them all correctly, then to glue them to make sure nothing will ever come undone, getting the page groups (known as signatures) to line up correctly... it's a lot of work. However, I must say, I can't argue with the results. The books are turning out gorgeous. I'll have several available on the site as soon as they are complete. Currently I'm working on back orders for them, since the glue I use (non-staining, non-acidic, lasts for decades) was unavailable for a long while due to the storms on the east coast.

For those who don't know, I work quite a bit. I have a full time job that is often more than full time, I write, I do my own editing, I run this website, my facebook, twitter, etc., and I also do freelance work for people who need a writer or editor. I also do security for Kato of Steamgirl.com and many of the models she works with, which is why I'm usually with them at conventions.  I don't often sleep, but I do drink coffee by the gallon. Lately, since it's been nice, I've also been moving people in and out of houses. Being a large individual means that I get asked first, usually. With all this going on, it does sometimes take me a few days to get book orders out to customers. I do usually get them out within 2-3 days of them being ordered, and if there's a rush order I will try my best to get it out that same day or the next, but sometimes I simply can't. I hope you all understand.

I'm still working on an audiobook edition for "A Glimpse into Madness," which I will have for sale as soon as it is finished. I've had some setbacks with it as of late, mostly having to do with sound quality. I don't believe in cheap products, and refuse to sell them to my readers. It takes longer, sometimes, but it's worth the wait.

Over in facebook-land, I'll be doing a giveaway of several signed copies of "A Glimpse into Madness" once the page reaches 500 likes, plus one of those 5 will also receive a random item from my own collection. It's sure to be interesting. Check out my facebook for details.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting on with editing "Moribund." My main character's psychosis has become even more interesting, and the support characters are getting their own plots.

Development and random updates

Hello again,

So, it looks as if I will be appearing at DragonCon 2015. The con goes from September 4th-7th in Atlanta, Georgia. Details can be seen on the events page. That being said, I do hope some of you will come out and say hello. I'm not at all sure what I'll be dressed as just yet, but I'm working something out. There's time.

As for the website, I added several new mailing options to the store, so you should have an easier time seeing exactly how you would like your items shipped. I'm also working on links to allow Paypal users to shop using their accounts, but Paypal and my Squarespace (which I built this website on) don't play well together. I may re-design the entire store page. We'll see.

As for items being available on the site, I'll soon be putting up the leather-bound, handmade copies of "A Glimpse into Madness." They're bound in actual leather by me, the pages are of the highest quality, hand-stitched with waxed and acid-free thread, then bound with a non-staining and lasting glue. These will be going at a premium, but there will only ever be 20 in existence, and they're sure to last a lifetime. They are each numbered, signed, and sometimes doodled in. I hope to get them listed soon.

The first batch of books sold on this site went out this morning, and I'm pleased with the turnout. The Promo-code is still good through this Sunday.

As for my personal life, I'm still editing, still writing, and still very happy with the results thus far. My cats, on the other hand, have been upset with me. They hate it when I work. (see below) Clotho is the innocent looking one (who is also sitting on my keyboard) and Chronos is her brother. They're a cute handful, but I enjoy their company.

That about does it for updates from me. I've been keeping myself very busy between work, life, and literature. I hope to have something to show you all soon.

~Sean Walter